Baby Watson
by ibelieveinguardianangels
Summary: My response to a headcanon/prompt about Baby Watson being stillborn.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my response to a 'head canon' that I read which I cannot remember word for word but, paraphrased, was something along the lines of "Baby Watson was still born". This is a two part story, one chapter is Sherlock and John, the other Molly and Mary. Obviously, this is set after** _ **The Sign of Three**_ **but before** _ **His Last Vow**_ **. I would like to note that Janine is not featured in this story and, instead, I like the idea of Sherlock and Molly being a background relationship at this time.  
I admit that it's nothing too in depth, but I wanted to give it a try and see how it turned out.  
As usual, sorry in advance for any mistakes.  
Chapter 1 is Sherlock and John; Chapter 2 is Molly and Mary. **

Baby Watson

The consulting detective tore his gaze away from his subpar experiment at the tell-tale sound of the bottom door opening, knowing that the door was locked and Mrs. Hudson was in, there was only one person who had access to the flat. Barring Mycroft, who had access to everything. The footsteps that began to tiredly ascend the stairs were heavy and the shoes audibly scraped the steps, as though the body dragging them didn't have the energy to do so. Sherlock was on his feet, his experiment abandoned, and waiting in the centre of the room for his friend before the door to the flat had opened.

Sherlock didn't ask any questions when his best friend entered the room, his eyes reddened with exhaustion and emotion, his hair messy as though he had been repetitively running his fingers through it. He didn't need to. Mary had gone into labour in the wee hours of that morning, John had text Sherlock to let him know, two months premature. John's current posture and gait told the man all that he needed to know.

Sherlock stepped forwards, closing the space between them and wordlessly enveloped the trembling doctor in an unexpectedly strong embrace. It appeared that the uncharacteristic display of affection was all the incentive John needed to allow his crumbling barrier to fall and himself to break down in tears, the substance soaking the shoulder of the detective's burgundy dressing gown as his left hand held his head against his shoulder gently.

"Sherlock," John sobbed out, choking momentarily on the air he was trying desperately to breathe in. At the obvious despair in John's voice, Sherlock purposely tightened his hold on the ex-army medic.

"I'm here," Sherlock whispered softly in response, his tone genuine and it was all the confirmation that John needed. The detective remained standing in an uncomfortable hunched position, trying his hardest to bring at least a small bit of comfort to his, understandably, distressed friend.

Sherlock and John stayed like that until the tightness in the detective's back, a lasting result of the torture he had endured, transitioned into a pain that he found he could not ignore and his legs began to ache. He stretched, trying not to groan, and guided John to the sofa, watching as he flopped gracelessly onto the designated bit of furniture, staring up at him with scarily vacant eyes.

Sherlock set about brewing some tea for his friend before retrieving a blanket that was large enough to cover the both of them. He joined him on the sofa, handing over the steaming beverage and covering both his and John's legs with the blanket, silently coaxing him into resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arm around him to continue the comforting embrace.

 **Thank you for reading; I'd love to know what you think.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is Molly's and Mary's chapter. They were both already written, so I figured I might as well post them together.  
Again, sorry for any mistakes. **

"M-Molly,"

The instant her name had been stammered down the phone in a breathless sob, the ever-loyal pathologist had promised she would be no longer than ten minutes and had begun rushing around the flat she inhabited when she wasn't staying over at the detective's own apartment, dashing in and out of rooms, feeding Toby his lunch a few hours early and packing her overnight bag. She almost forgot to lock her door in her rush down the stairs and onto the street where she hailed a cab to take her to the Watson's.

Mary was clearly waiting for Molly to arrive as the door was opened seconds after the doctor knocked and she was greeted by a very fraught looking woman. She was pale aside from the areas her tears had reddened and her short blonde hair appeared to have had her hand coursing through it repetitively, some parts mussed and standing on end and some parts sitting as they should.

"Oh, Mary," Molly sighed softly as she stepped aside, pulling the door open wider to let her in.

"Tea?" Mary offered quietly as she led Molly through to the sitting room, her voice cracking on the single syllable.

"I'll see to the tea, Mary," Molly smiled reassuringly, "you go and sit down, hmm?" Mary didn't argue, simply nodded and settled herself on the sofa, listening to the rattling of Molly's drink-making process.

Handing over the perfectly brewed beverage, the pathologist joined Mary on the Watson's sofa. She folded her legs under herself, leaning against the back as she regarded her friend. Mary's feet were planted firmly on the floor, her head bowed as she ran the tip of her middle finger around the rim of the mug, staring at the steaming tea, her usually manicured nails now visible to Molly and clearly chewed to the point of being painful.

"Talk to me," Molly offered, tilting her head to the side slightly as she regarded her friend.

"He's gone." Mary sniffled, her head remaining hanging low on her chest. "John, I mean." She clarified. "He upped and left as soon as we returned from the hospital. He didn't say a word. He didn't even spare me a glance." Mary's voice was tight as she spoke and Molly knew that she was trying to fight back emotion.

"You know where he will have gone, Mary," Molly replied softly, shifting so that she was closer to her friend, "he'll have gone seeking comfort from Sherlock just like you've come seeking comfort from me. And once he's had some time to stew things over, he'll be back." Molly assured her.

"I've disappointed him, Molly," Mary sniffled again, "once he found out that I was pregnant, he was ecstatic. He really wanted a family."

"Mary," Molly reached out, removing the cup from her hands as they began to tremble and placing it on the coffee table before reaching out and carefully running it up and down her back in a soothing manner, "its not the end. You can try again when you're feeling better."

"And what if I lose that one too?" Mary whispered.

"There are other options." Molly assured her. "If you lose another, which is not an assured fate," She carefully poked Mary's shoulder as she said this, as if to back up her statement, or at least show the gravity of her words, "you and John can look into adoption, or a surrogacy. And you _know_ that Sherlock and I are going to be here to support you and John no matter which path you chose."

Molly placed her own mug beside Mary's, reaching out and gathering her up in her arms before holding her tightly to her chest and beginning to sway from side to side rhythmically.

 **Thank you for reading and I'd love to know what you think.**

 **ibelieveinguardianangels**


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